Prompt: Angst-y quotations, lyrics, sayings, or words used as subject matter for (500-1,000 word) one-shots.
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O1: "…that, when I woke, I cried to dream again" –Caliban from Shakespeare's The Tempest
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Freya.
She's here. Standing so near to him, he can feel her warmth—and yet he cannot move. Cannot breathe.
She smiles at his hesitance. Such a gentle, compassionate smile she bestows, his heart clenches at the memories it unveils.
"It's alright, Merlin. It truly is me."
He hears his breath catch. The other illusions have never spoken.
Slowly, he lifts his hand to touch her cheek—and trembles when at how astonishingly warm and solid this new mirage feels.
A sob escapes his lips.
Unleashed with the tears, is the mantra he has sealed in his heart for all these years.
"Freya, Freya, Freya…."
She breaches the distance between them at the sight, a sad look in her eyes, and wraps her arms (how wonderfully solid they are!) around him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
He clings to her, weeping.
"It's all over now, Merlin." He can hear the tears in her voice as she holds him. "Arthur's become the man he was meant to be. Albion's united and at peace."
She smiles.
"Well done, my love."
Tears begin to escape her defenses now.
"Well done."
He says not a word, but clutches her to him all the more urgently. Once the tears end, and the trembling subsides, he apologizes for her death; apologizes for not being strong enough, smart enough, fast enough to save her. She tries hushing him, but to no avail; too long has the guilt laid in his heart—he must release it now.
They remain in their embrace as he whispers (so brokenly) into her ear—he speaks of the pain, the lies, the deceit, the deaths, the double dealings he has undergone for "the greater good." She holds him, feels the frantic pounding of his heart, and listens.
And when his throat contracts too painfully for him to continue, she responds: soothing words, reassuring him of his innocence and goodness, usher forth and she finds herself smiling. After all, he had done the very same for her all those years ago.
"You really don't realize how special you are, do you?"
His chest shakes with the effort of a soft, broken laugh.
"You remember…."
The image shifts, and now he's laying on soft grass, bathed in sunlight with his head resting in her lap. She leans against a tree, smiling and speaking softly as her fingers run through his hair.
"It's all over now, Merlin." She repeats.
And for the first time in years, he gives a genuine smile.
But then the sound of boots against stone floors echoes across the meadow—and suddenly, Freya becomes less warm, less solid.
"No…"
The ground beneath him becomes colder, harder. And there's no sun, no light— only darkness.
Merlin frantically pushes himself into a sitting position, eyes looking half crazed as he searches for Freya…but only stone walls and iron bars meet his gaze.
"NO!"
His heart thrashes against his scarred and bruised chest almost painfully as he turns his head every which way, looking desperately for any sign of his love.
"Freya!"
But she's gone….
The chains binding his writs clink nosily as he brings his hands to cover his tear-stained face, his entire being shaking from the sheer grief of it all.
He begins to rock.
And, suddenly, shielding signs of weakness from his captors seems like such a trivial pursuit.
He lets himself sob.
"….Freya…..!"
How he longs to dream again….
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The guard outside Merlin's cell, the one that had been pacing so nosily against the stone floors, listens to the sobs with a smile.
The prisoner has finally broken.
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A/N:
Many people have written drabbles for Merlin, so I decided to conform and join in on the fun. Meh. Anyways, my "one-shots" (many of which, I predict, will be too long to be called "drabbles") will focus on angst wherein Merlin himself is the main character. I don't know why I take so much pleasure from his pain….it's beginning to disconcert me….anyhoo, thanks for reading!